Tricky
by chocolate rules
Summary: It's cute and funny, just read it okay, it's 230am and I'm too tired to think of a summary. Rated for language. A lot.


**Tricky**

By: chocolate rules

* * *

A/N: Hehe, more one shots! Yeah! Know what I love about these? No more chapters! Chapter stories are killing me! But, I love those too, hmmph! 

ANYways, I was reading a few stories here and in a few other places and got inspired. _Trying_ to write another chapter to one of my other stories, loving the response on the m BTW, but other ideas keep on popping up! ANd then I have this other tale I'm working on that's all angsty, but since my birthday I can't really get into the 'angst' mood. Hmmph, ucks really. So yeah, thats stopped a few updates because everything sounded phony.

This is my attempt at crappy humor! Enjoy!

Ooooooo, um yeah no beta. Prob a lot of mistakes and random letters because there's this annoying bug flying around and I keep cjhasing it so much that I got a scratch on my forhead and it bleed but I didn't even get to get the damn bug! gggggggrrrrrrrrr!

Disclaimer: Seventeen candles and one for good luck...still no ownership over Dean and his precious little brother SAm, the Impala, or their father. All of which are not mentioned in this fic...But, I still don't own them so it still counts!

* * *

Dean and Sam entered the long, dark hall. Throughout it, the doors lied motionless, some allowing the moon's light in through its open doors. 

The peace was well welcomed after the havoc of coming up the stairs. The site stating that the house held a mind of its own wasn't kidding. And wasn't _that_ a shocker!

Dean leveled off his flashlight and illuminated most of the hall as Sam's eyes roamed it to get a better understanding of their current situation.

They took a tentive step forward, aligned their guns, and listened. Nothing.

Another step. Same.

Another.

Another.

They neared the first door. Sam pushed it opened as Dean piloted into it. Flashlights frantically searched the rather small and empty quarters. Nothing.

Moving right along now.

Step. Check. Nothing.

Next door. Nothing.

Next room and then across the hall, two on that side. Nothing.

By the time they hit another hall, the brother's poise had changed from their trained soldier response attentive ones to a more relaxed strolling ones. They couldn't seem to find a damn thing through out the entire damn house.

Nothing like it had been downstairs. No, there every damn left behind piece of furniture seemed to be after them.

Granted, that toilet paper chasing Sam was kind of funny. Especially when it wrapped around his head. Yeah, that was good.

Besides that fact, Dean found the whole situation ridiculous.

This was _soo_ the last time that he allowed Sam to pick their gig.

He was so going to take the laptop away from him. It was rightfully his anyway and the kid spent way too much time with it and not enough time having fun.

Speaking of fun…

"I hate this," he growled out. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean had been saying that for the last ten minutes.

"_I'm_ _sorry_," replied Sam again. Again.

Dean turned and glared at him. And yep, Sam was sooo not going to like the ride back to the motel. And as Dean's look lingered he decided that it'd be safest if he slept with one eye open tonight.

Another ten minutes and they decided, and by they I mean Dean of course, that there were nor never had been any damn sprits in any of those damn rooms.

"Then what was that downstairs?" Sam said to the death glare he was receiving.

"_Downstairs_, yes. Up here, nothing!" Dean tugged his gun into his waistband. "Let's go."

"Dean!" Sam, said as he followed his brother to the stairs some fifty halls away.

"What," Dean said not slowing down any.

"We can't leave this place just like that!"

"Why not?" he retorted as they reached the stairs, ten times faster than it had taken them to get to where they had turned back.

"Because," Sam said using his long legs to catch up to his brother at the bottom of the stairs. He reached over and managed to grab onto his brother's arm and swing his around before he ran off again.

"They're going to open this place in like _three nights_. And besides, Jake Milton is a good friend of Dad's. Do you want him to tell Dad that we did _nothing_ to help him?"

Well that was a _hell no_ if he ever thought of one. Dean sighed. He looked around the empty foyer and at the thrashed furniture. No, they didn't need to add yet more to the bad report they would be receiving from this.

"Then where the _hell_ is that damn sprit!" Dean questioned through gritted teeth. Sam looked around, thinking. And of course, nothing.

For a kid was a 'brain' he sure was slow when push come to shove. Like that damn truck incident. 'I never really thought about it," he had said. Dean still owed him a major beating for that one.

And he had endangered his precious Impala.

"Basement?"

"Huh?" Dean said, seeing as he was remembering his brother's worst hunting ideas and hadn't been listening.

"How about the basement? If not up…"

"…down." Dean finished. He flashed his brother a cheeky smirk. "Better be right this time, Sammy-boy. Or, god help me I'll leave you here alone to get the damn thing."

Sam rolled his eyes at the empty threat. Oh sure, Dean was seriously going to leave him alone in a haunted hotel, where not even _he_ knew what the hell was going on. Not happening.

"Well, we already tried the upstairs and the kitchens and dinning rooms never got any complaint." Sam said as he pulled out his gun and started to walk to the basement entrance door.

He heard his brother follow and together they flanked their flashlights and guns as the slowly made their way down the stairs. A few steps creaked and by the time that they had made it to the bottom, Sam was sure that he had a bruise on his head from all the times that his brother had swatted him.

He protested that it was the eldest's damn boots. That got him a few more swats.

Finally at the basement, they made a quick look around. Like the rest of the damn place, the basement was huge.

"We should split up," suggested Sam. He started walking towards what sounded like the boiler room, and didn't that bring back memories, as he felt his arm get yanked back.

"No," Dean said firmly. And oh yeah, since that minor kidnapping thing, Dean had been on major Big Brother mode. Sam could never be far from his sight and mentioning that he wasn't eight anymore didn't help matters.

So, yeah, Sam was not enjoying himself.

They walked quickly through the boiler room and the laundry room. In the linen storage room, they heard some kind of scratching coming from the far end of the room.

Dean led the way as they headed to the room furthest in the left hand corner.

There was a plastic folding table there with two chairs surrounding it. There was a door that connected it to the laundry room besides it and a cabinet that currently seemed to be rattling uncontrollably.

Dean motioned for Sam to position himself in front of the cabinet while he raised his gun, aiming towards whatever was inside that cabinet.

Sam's hand reached out for the handle. It stilled slightly as the entire cabinet shock once more. Dean growled at him slightly and he grasped the cool smooth metal.

Sam looked over to his brother and waited for his sign to pull the cabinet doors open.

Dean took a deep breath and nodded his head.

Sam yanked back the door and jumped back into position, raising his weapon.

At least ten little grey mice raced out of captivity. At the sight, Dean's eyes grew wide and he leapt onto the closest thing, a chair by the folding table.

Sam maneuvered his feet away from the scurrying creatures, but he remained in position

From where he, uh _cowered in fright, _Dean thought that those were the largest most monster like _rats_.

It didn't take long before the mice/rats had left and Dean had announced that they had to run for their lives!

Ϛϛϛϛϛϛϛ̕̕̕

Sam wasn't allowed to say anything on the ride back to the motel. Dean had made a complete (and total!) dumbass of himself.

He had ran all the way to the stairs, up the stairs, through kitchen and adjacent dinning room before going into the foyer. Once there he had almost literally bumped into the pesky poltergeist.

Sam had then come up from behind him and had started shooting at the thing, effectively breaking Dean from his slight trance. (FYOW-for your own warning- don't tell him he was in a trace though. Because he was thinking and Sammy's a liar!)

They quickly finished it off and Dean sent Sam to do a last swipe while he, uh fixed the furniture up a bit, yeah that!

Sam rolled his eyes and walked back up the stairs once more.

Dean had (not!) redeemed himself by fixing the place up pretty good, all things considered and pulled the car up to the door to await Sam.

So, of course, he had not seen when his little brother had made his way to the basement and nabbed a fuzzy little creature and stuffed it into his pocket.

Ϛϛϛϛϛϛϛϛ

Dean lied on his belly trying to drown out the thoughts that there were tiny little legs crawling all over his skin.

It felt like there were at least ten of those damn mice making his back their home.

Dean muffled a moan into his pillow and tried to pull it off as a yawn.

With all this thought about crawling critters, he didn't hear his kid brother rise from his bed and walk over to his duffel bag.

Sam slowly peeled open the zipper enough to stick his hand into. Then, he moved it around as he tried to find his new little friend, well at least for the night. Not like Dean would let him keep it or anything.

Especially if he couldn't find it.

Sam stood up slightly in panic. He maintained his breathing regular and began to walk around room. He called out to Tricky, well, after a two hour car drive he _had _to name it.

Sam began to rethink this _brilliant _idea as he went over to check underneath one of the night stands.

Of all his luck, one of the few times that they actually get a decently room, equipped with its own couch and TV and kitchen and it even had a DVD player. It was one of the nicer places that they had been in in a long, long time.

And now he'd have to sleep in the car.

Well, that was of course if Dean ever found out.

As Sam made his way out of the bathroom, where there was no sign of any mouse, he closed the door behind him. He didn't want to have to check there again. It was not pleasant.

Sam started to make his way towards the kitchen, when Dean shifted again.

Another step and Dean cursed out.

Dean felt something on his back again. But, unlike the other times where it had been throughout his entire back and had felt like a dozen little feet, this distinguishably felt like four.

Dean leapt up to his feet and Sam switched on the lights.

Sam's face almost met Dean's frightened one.

But nothing matched the look on the elder's face when he saw a certain creature scurry into the depth of a certain kid brother's bag.

Dean was standing on his bed. He had his cell in one hand and his knife in the other. What they were for, Sam was too afraid to ask.

Dean glanced between his brother and the bag. Something clicked and Sam couldn't run fast enough.

Ϛϛϛϛϛϛϛ

Sam shifted in his seat as they neared the seventy mile marker on the highway.

His backside and entire chest area hurt. His brother hadn't been merciful and had hit anything that he could get his hands onto. Or his knees. Or his feet.

Tricky had been caught between 'beating up little brother' time and 'time to pack and scram' time.

Sam had had to do the packing. And had to bring it to the car. And check out.

All Dean had done was shower and shot him evil glares.

And then, there had been the entire ceremony- of which of course Dean conducted- where the tiny thing was killed by his brutal hands. And then he had salted and burned it, just to spite. He had said that it was because they couldn't be certain that it hadn't been enchanted by the sprit or something.

Sam actually believed that for a second, like always wit h everything that his brother said. But he's not going to admit that, so don't bother asking.

'Heaven and Hell' was playing and Sam was so not in any position to complain. So he didn't as he shifted to try and sit more comfortably.

He would have bruises running all through his back and rear end and legs for the next few days, but hey at least he wasn't walking the rest of the way.

Apparently, Dean wasn't in the mood for pranks yet.

* * *

I'm sorry, but personally, I loved this:D Well, like I said B4, I was all and reading other fics and one fic had the line with Dean saying something like" Ahh Rats! I hate rats!" And then I ran off and wrote this in, what was it liek two hours ? Something like that, trust me, great inspiration:D So yeah, tell me what you thought and it it struck your funny bone! PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!

A/N2: This story went from being called Rats, to Incomplete, to Tricky in like two paragraphs. And for good reason. RIP Tricky, you served a great purpose!


End file.
